


Enough

by badluckvixen13 (alteringviews)



Series: 1 Million for Black Hermione [27]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, Black Hermione Granger, Bullying, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 05:34:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10655958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alteringviews/pseuds/badluckvixen13
Summary: Sometimes... enough is enough.





	Enough

“Do you ever wash your face or are you just perpetually dirty?”

Hermione let out a deep breath. She bathed regularly and in much better quality than Pansy she was sure. Pansy was as pale as a sheet of muggle printing paper where Hermione looked as though she’d been crafted from the richest soil in the world and dusted with gold. She’d done just a little extra today while bathing that morning. A little pop for her downturned mood by using a special scrub she’d picked up on her post-war travels. She was back at Hogwarts, sailing through her classes like she knew she would and enjoying the regularity of classes again, the calm of having a routine that didn’t include warding their sleeping area and fearing for her life.

“What are those bargain bin robes?”

Of course they were. Why would she pay full price for something she was going to grow out of in about three months and would have no more need for after this year? Her parents raised a woman, not a fool.

“What’s with your shoes? Are they muggle too?”

They were very muggle, very cheap and enhanced with all sorts of comfort charms. They were good shoes… They had also been her mother’s. Hermione let out a calming breath around the stab of guilt and pain that had shot through her.

“And that hair, don’t you ever comb it? For the  _ brains _ of the Golden Trio, you would think you had enough sense to at least comb your hair.”

She combed this mass of curls everyday. One day, they’d stop conflating hair texture with hygiene, until then, it seemed that even with the war nothing really changed. Wizards and witches who grew up in the wizarding world still looked down on people like her and Harry who grew up in the muggle world. Seemed that the term mudblood, while not used as often, was very much a real marker of worth of respect…

To think, she’d bled for these people...

“You hear me talking to you?” 

Fought for these people...

“Hey, mudblood--”

Lost nearly  _ everything _ for these--

Something fucking snapped, “Bitch!”

_ Crack! _

A gasp went up in the corridor as Hermione swung hard and fast, effectively breaking Pansy’s nose, but she wasn’t done. Pansy went down easily and Hermione punched her again after grabbing a handful of her hair and aiming every punch afterwards to her face with an unmeasured savagery. Something in the back of her mind told her to stop, but she didn’t heed it. 

The voice sounded like her mother and that only made Hermione angrier. 

Monica had been a good woman. William had been a good man. Their only crime really had been having her. Their only crime was the very muscle and bone she was using to beat Pansy’s face in and it would never be absolved. 

It would never be  _ okay _ .

She could never be forgiven because they were dead. 

Dead for a daughter they couldn’t even remember in their last moments. 

Dead and it was all Hermione’s fault. 

Pansy cried out and twisted, reaching for her wand. Hermione stepped on her hand, making it go rolling away and continued to punch her as the corridor went up in noise and gasps. Someone went to get a professor, she was sure, but she didn’t care. She’d had enough.

The wizarding world, while grateful, had never apologized, never made moves to change their ways, never saw the pain and suffering that could have been avoided if they had simply learned to be  _ human _ first.

She’d gone the route of reporting it, she’d tried to follow the rules and nothing happened even before the war. She thought that with the end, people would have been inclined for change, but no. No. No. 

_ No,  _  she thought, waving her hand to send a Slytherin girl flying back as she tried to hex Hermione. 

The rules had never really helped anyone. They hadn’t helped her, her parents, Harry, Ron, Ginny-- anyone who truly needed them. The rules served those who enforced them. 

But wizarding rules said nothing about a good old fashioned passionate muggle ass kicking and in forgetting that witches had fists as well as wands, muscles as well as minds, perhaps the rules would manage to serve her just this once. 

She’d been through enough. The war, losing her parents, losing damn near everything. She just wanted to graduate and Pansy fucking Parkinson hadn’t grown up even an inch since first year. She had it coming as far as Hermione was concerned and that would be exactly what she told the professor who would ask.

Another person moved towards her, one of Pansy’s friends she was sure and Hermione caught her in the face with an elbow, pulling Pansy along. Someone else grabbed her and she swung, hard and angry until the girl fell to the ground and she stood alone in a group of three Slytherin girls, crying about their broken noses and injuries. She didn’t say anything more but grabbed her bag, sent a meaningful look to the spectators and headed towards her next class. She took a seat in her chair in Herbology and held her head high. 

“Granger.”

She looked at Draco with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to say something out of turn and be her very next victim. 

He grinned, “Good job.”

She frowned and he took the seat beside her, “I wondered when you were going to sock someone else in the face.”

Hermione regarded him, waiting for the trick, but apparently the war had in fact changed some people since he merely turned back towards the front as class began and said nothing more as classes started. 

It was then that she realized…. 

They were the only two prominent names in the war in the class, two of the most prominent names that had returned to school. Hermione had been on one side, Draco had been on the other, but that didn’t change that they were both out of place with their own scars to deal with. 

She nodded and looked at Draco. 

“Thank you.”

He nodded and they turned back to listening to Madame Sprouts. 


End file.
